She approached the heavy black main door at the bottom of the stairs with a deep breath. It was the first door she would open, the first thing she would be able to manipulate in over 12 hours. A sign of freedom she had longed for weeks to give up. Almost exactly half a day earlier, losing this freedom had been exactly what had happened, the moment the had stepped through this door. And now as she faced this very boundary to regain her normal self, she hesitated for a moment, one breath, no more, but also no less.
When she emerged on the other side, any observer would have seen a friendly girl, confident, looking a bit younger than her late 20s. Black hair and her eyes gave her Asian roots away. Her knee-long yellow skirt, the blue Doc Martens, the black faux leather jacket, her outfit was neither cheap nor overpriced, but always a bit out there unusual.
With a steady pace, she took a left and walked towards the main road. If her gait had been reluctant for the first half dozen steps all that was gone in seconds.